


House Rules

by Xela



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Once upon a time people told stories that started with 'once upon a time.'  And there were princesses in tall towers, princes on white horses and hope.</i>
</p>
<p>With Vulcan and Earth destroyed, the universe descends into chaos and darkness.  Survival is the name of the game, and you do it however you can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically: Uhura is the the BAMFiest BAMF who ever BAMFED. Kirk is too good at his job. McCoy is surly. Spock is stubborn. Pavel is adorable and beloved by all. So...business as usual.

_Once upon a time people told stories that started with 'once upon a time.' And there were princesses in tall towers, princes on white horses and hope._

"It all sounds very one dimensional. Why are all of the princesses in towers? Could they not climb down? I am told horses smell. Are you sure these traditional Earth tales are entertaining?"

"Gaila. Are you going to let me tell the story?"

"Is it worth my time? Time is money, money is time, don't waste mine—"

"And you eat tonight," Kirk mimicked, voice overly shrill.

"Madame Uhura does not sound like that," Gaila censured, though her lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

"Gaila!"

"Yes, fine, continue."

"Thank you."

_In a small town on the edge of nowhere was a young, handsome man. And this young handsome man was the handsomest and best in all the land—_

"Was his name Spock?"

_"Gaila!"_

"Massage my feet and I will not interrupt you again." Gaila wiggled her green toes in Kirk's face. Kirk nipped playfully at her foot, then got to the serious business of massage. Their in-house barter system had a special place for Kirk Massage IOUs.

_And this boy was very brave, a hero who took on all those who wished to harm his people. He fought lions and tigers and bears. One day, a dark knight rode into town. And this knight brought Death and Doom and Destruction with him. The people quaked in fear, but the handsome boy did not. He stood up and defeated the dark knight at great injury to himself. And the townspeople gathered together and gnashed their teeth, and tore their hair—_

"That seems very counterproductive —no! I'm sorry, I apologize, the gnashing and tearing is all very...story-like."

_And they despaired that their handsome hero would be no more. So they sent a plea to every corner of the world on the fastest ships and the fastest steeds for anyone who might save him. With every day that passed our hero grew weaker, and the people cried and prayed for him. Until one dreary, rainy day a man appeared in town, the best Doctor in the world. He brought thunderclouds with him, and scowled from underneath his hat. But there was magic in his hands and the townspeople offered him whatever he wanted if only he would heal their hero._

"It would be quite prudent and economically sound for the man to demand the hero in return. He seems to be the town's most valuable possession."

"I'm ignoring you."

_But there was nothing the man wanted. He refused their gold and their horses that didn't smell and all the food they had to offer. They begged and they pleaded until the man agreed to see the hero. He took one look at the handsome man and fell madly, impossibly in love. The force of it made lightning flash across clear skies and thunder roll. Booooom, crash! It was very impressive. And when the hero opened his eyes—_

“Kirk! Client!” someone yelled down the hall.

“Motherfucker! He's early.” Kirk pushed Gaila off of him and scrambled to his feet. He checked his hair in their cracked mirror and made a face.

“You look fine,” Gaila told him. Kirk ignored her and smeared more kohl under his eyes, turning them smoky and dark. He spun around and pressed his lips into Gaila's, who reciprocated enthusiastically. She even bit down on his bottom lip, and pulled it playfully, grinning at him all the while. 

"Gaila," Kirk said petulantly. It came out fairly intelligible as he had lots of practice talking Gaila into releasing his various appendages and body parts. Gaila smirked and let go. Kirk stuck his tongue out at her, jerking back when Gaila snapped at him, teeth gleaming white. He scowled and rubbed more rouge on his lips, making them redder and more enticing.

“Hair?” he asked petulantly, pouting his newly-swollen and painted lips at her. Gaila rolled her eyes at his puppy dog look but obliged, running her fingers through Kirk's hair with practiced ease, twisting the gelled locks.

“I think I know how this story ends,” she said casually, teasing his hair into a just-been-fucked-look.

“Oh yeah?” Kirk asked. He let Gaila guide him around so they were face-to-face. She cupped his face, running her thumb over the curve of his cheekbones.

“Tragically.” She caught a quick flash of something in his eyes before the cock-sure look was back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Gotta work!” He kissed her and breezed out the door. Gaila watched him go with an indulgent smile on her face. Kirk and his stories. She fell gracefully to the bed, her red hair spreading over her pillow, and sighed. Kirk was playing a dangerous game, getting wrapped up in his doctor. Love was a dangerous thing for a whore. 

A shuffle at the door attracted her attention.

“Pavel! How are you?” Pavel smiled a bit nervously and ducked his head. The youngest member of their crew and newest addition, he hadn't quite found his place yet. But Sulu had taken the boy under his wing so Gaila wasn't too worried. Sulu was good people. Kirk liked to call him "a hooker with a heart of gold."

“I am good. Hikaru wanted me to tell you. It is Komack. His client.” Gaila allowed herself one minute in situations like this. Twenty seconds to freak out, ten seconds to be sad, ten seconds to hate, and twenty seconds to plan. Gaila took her minute and then breathed deeply.

“I'll strip the bed and put down the rubber sheets. Someone needs to call—”

“We have already done so.” Pavel squirmed under her stare. “Madame Uhura has agreed to have him on call for Komack's visits.”

"More likely Kirk's doctor bitched until she relented," Gaila snorted. "Tell Sulu I'm crashing with you two tonight."

***

Leonard's hands shook as he washed the blood off them. Jim's blood.

“Goddamned heartless bitch,” he muttered to himself. “Doesn't care about anybody but herself.”

“If that were true, you wouldn't be here, Doctor McCoy,” a sharp voice said from behind him. Leonard jerked, tepid blood-tainted water splashing on his shirt. He pressed his hand to his chest, heart hammering underneath.

“Goddamnit it, woman, I'm no good to you dead!” Leonard growled. Uhura smiled thinly at him, a humorless expression that didn't go anywhere close to her eyes. Leonard scowled at her and concentrated on cleaning his hands. A few slips of yellow paper with iridescent print appeared by his elbow.

“You can sell those, use them. Whatever you want," she told him.

“I've told you before, credits or nothing,” Leonard spat angrily. He glared at the House Vouchers, scraps of plastic with people's bodies on offer for the taking. An hour with a top-tier whore, anything goes; an erotic massage; quickie special. In many circles, they were better than cash. His stomach rolled at the thought of accepting them as payment for his services.

“You can get more from selling those vouchers than I'm ever going to pay you in cold, hard cash,” Uhura said mildly. They went through this dance every time, and Leonard wondered why Uhura kept trying. It was true; she was saving herself money by giving him credits.

"I am not taking it out in trade," he said slowly, drawing the words out to an insulting degree. Uhura smirked at him, and it occurred to Leonard that she was actually attractive. For a heartless bitch.

Uhura's eyes raked down him knowingly. "Not for lack of wanting. When you're ready to climb off that white stallion, you just let me know." The heartless bitch spun on her heel and headed down the hall, head held high.

"I'm staying to check on him!" Leonard yelled at her back.

"It's your time," Uhura called back. "I'm not paying for it."

\---

Leonard let himself into Jim's room and reminded himself to thank Gaila when he found the room tidy, bloody gauze nowhere to be seen and medical tools packed away. Jim was stretched out on his bed, head buried in the crook of his arm. His back was a mess of whip marks, bruises, and abrasions, some distressingly deep. Leonard traced a particularly dark bruise over Jim's side.

"Goddamn it, kid." Without access to a dermal regenerator it would take almost a month for this to fully heal, though the superficial wounds would disappear in a few days and, if he kept from opening the wounds again, he wouldn't scar. Which meant Uhura would have him back on the floor flirting with customers well before he was ready. Maybe Leonard could talk to Gaila and see if they could work something else out, perhaps one of those special shows Uhura liked to put on with just the two of them. Gaila could take care of Kirk, even when he was at his most stubborn.

"'M not a kid," Jim mumbled and turned into Bones, laying his head on Leonard's thigh.

"Yeah," Leonard agreed softly, stroking his head. "You couldn't be, in here." He thought briefly of the new kid, the one with a thick Rusky accent and innocent eyes. They wouldn't stay innocent for long. Kid wasn't even old enough to really remember Earth either. Lost in his thoughts, Leonard stopped stroking Jim's hair until he head butted Leonard's hand like a cat to remind him, a brief tightening of his lips the only sign that the action pulled on his back.

"Stay down, you idiot," Leonard ordered. Jim glared but let Leonard push his head back down. He nuzzled Leonard's thigh suggestively, smirking, so Leonard thumped him. "You are not up for that."

"Always UP for it, Bones," Jim teased, gently nipping at Leonard's cock through his pants. Leonard grabbed Jim's hair and pulled his head away, all traces of humor leaving him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said harshly. _I'm not like them,_ they both heard.

"You're not," Jim agreed, easing himself up Leonard's body. "You could never." Leonard tried to keep the kiss light and chaste, but Jim was a very persuasive man. And Leonard lacked any amount of willpower.

"Jim, you're—"

"Fine," Jim whispered, nudging Leonard down to the bed, covering him like a blanket. "Fine. And smart. Smart enough to make this feel good."

"Goddamn it, Jim!" Leonard couldn't feel bad with Jim smiling at him like it was Christmas morning. He gave in and kissed the stupid idiot, lips soft and pliant. He fisted his hands in the covers so he wouldn't grab at Jim's back and make it worse.

"I like this," Jim pulled away to tell him, rolling his hips to keep Leonard occupied. "Sharp words, soft lips."

"Christ, did I give you too many pain meds?" Leonard demanded. Jim just laughed at him, nipping at his neck, a hand sneaking into Leonard's pants.

***

Nyota looked completely at ease in the posh, up-scale restaurant. The place reeked of money, from the exotic scent of the food to the luxurious cloths that graced the walls and upholstered the chairs. She allowed the maître d' to take her coat, the expensive Ferria silk sliding sensuously over her skin. 

She turned heads as she made her way through the restaurant with confidence, some belonging to people who used to feature amongst her most regular clients.

"There is great beauty to this place," a sibilant voice said. Uhura was forced to stop as Adver Abek, richest flesh peddler in the galaxy and former client, stepped in front of her. "Nyota." Abek kissed her hand, the tip of his dry tongue flicking against her skin. He looked Nyota over with a familiar eye and she had to suppress the urge to drop her eyes demurely. She belonged here—she _deserved_ to be here. She wasn't a whore in a whorehouse anymore. She'd fought for her freedom and won.

"Saahi Abek," she said evenly, inclining her head to one side. A title and gesture amongst peers in Abek's culture. She savored the way his nostrils flared with irritation.

"It has been long days, Uhura Nyota." Uhura smiled thinly. She reached into her clutch and pulled out an iridescent card.

"So that long days might be short." Abek's nostrils flared once again at the discount House voucher. His eyes were flinty as he tucked it away. "You must excuse me, Saahi Abek. I see my date and do not wish to keep him waiting." Uhura inclined her head and strode away, leaving Abek simmering angrily.

"That was very well done. Never did like that guy," her companion said, humor coloring his voice.

"Christopher," she greeted with genuine warmth. He took her hand, a boyish grin on his face, and gallantly brushed a kiss along her knuckles.

"Nyota. You'll excuse me if I don't stand?" She laughed in acknowledgment as she sat herself at the table and faced her former employer and mentor. Christopher Pike, one of the richest humans in the galaxy, self-made—as all humans had to be these days. Seated as they were, she could almost ignore the hoverchair, the result of a failed assassination attempt at the very House she now ran.

"I don't," Nyota murmured. "I'm hardly a lady, after all." Pike raised his glass in sardonic acknowledgment. They both knew just how deep his respect for Uhura ran, considering he would not be alive were it not for her. And the fact that she'd scrimped and saved to buy not only her freedom, but the House as well.

"And how's my favorite House?" Pike asked, pouring Nyota a glass of wine. "You still keeping those troublemakers on?"

"Kirk and Gaila?"

"Those would be the ones. If you're looking to sell, I could get you a good price. Commission free." Uhura bristled at the criticism masquerading as suggestion but kept her expression smooth.

"I don't even think the Emperor could offer a price that matches what they bring in together," she said dismissively. Pike's amused look grated on her, but she had more control than to let it show. "I'll have the Luxen Braise." 

"Ah, Nyota. Still too attached to your whores then." Pike smiled at her over his menu, but she felt his censure all the same.

"Gaila and Kirk, collectively, are my top earners. Individually their only competition is Spock—"

"The Vulcan half-breed you acquired. A very smart investment."

"—so I am perfectly capable of running _my_ business, _Christopher."_ Pike's lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line but he didn't interrupt again. "When they've out lived their usefulness, or when their earning don't supersede the annoyance of keeping them around, or MY House—mine, Christopher—is no longer the top earner in this _quadrant?_ THEN I will take the necessary action to protect my business and my investments."

"Forgive me," Pike said at length. "I did not mean to insinuate you were in anyway incapable of managing your...affairs." The waiter chose that moment to take their orders, ignoring the tension at the table with practiced ease. 

“And need I remind you, you bought them right before you left? Don't think I don't realize you did it on purpose." Pike laughed deep and loud, and raised his glass in acknowledgment. He kept the conversation light and small after that, and Nyota let him. She held the man in high esteem but the time had long passed since she was anyone but her own woman.

Dinner wound down amongst the remains of a truly wonderful meal. As dessert was brought out on a covered platinum tray, Nyota decided they'd procrastinated enough.

"Was there a reason for this dinner?" Nyota asked. "Or is this purely a social call?"

"Why can't it be both?" Nyota let her skeptical look answer for her. "You know me too well."

Pike poured them both another glass of wine and Nyota was surprised to taste the near-forgotten flavors of Earth. Something deep in her chest ached for home but she pushed it aside. Her world had been destroyed almost before she knew to miss it. No one bought Earth wine on a whim. Something was very wrong.

"Chris. What's going on? What is this?" Christopher closed his eyes and inhaled the complex scent of his drink, breathing it in and letting the flavor surround him. At the wistful look that crossed his face—a luxury of expression _Pike_ rarely allowed himself but _Christopher_ reveled in—Nyota remembered that he was old enough to have truly known Earth, to have spent most of his life in a time before the Empire and Nero.

"I've heard things," Chris said. "Whispers."

"So quiet that no one else has heard them?" Nyota teased, though she couldn't help the shiver that crept down her spine. Chris's words stirred something dark and foreboding in her.

"Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty; power is ever stealing from the many to the few." Nyota froze for a telling moment, staring sightlessly at the table. A slight cough broke her out of her reverie. The bite of cake was ash in her mouth.

"So shall ye keep the watch of the House, that it be not broken down," she murmured in return. She tried to wash the taste of fear down with the rest of her wine. It didn't work.

"Guard it well." They gazed at each other in a moment of perfect understanding before Nyota forced herself to look away and catch the waiter's eye. She signaled for the check.

"Going so soon?" Pike asked, reaching out and taking Nyota's hand in his. "The night is young. We could reminisce. Catch up. Relive old times?" Pike ran his thumb over the back of Nyota's hand.

"I haven't been in debt to you for three years," Nyota said evenly, pulling away, "and while I will always appreciate your friendship and your advice, you will never touch me that way again." Pike sat back and gazed at her. This was part of their carefully orchestrated dance, put on for prying ears, but that didn't make her words any less true.

"In another time we could have been great," he told her.

"In another time, we would have no reason to know one another," Uhura returned. She strode out of the restaurant with her head held high. She'd earned her place in this broken world. No one would take that away. Not even the people who were, apparently, trying to destroy her.

\---

Nyota let herself relax as she entered the sanctuary of her private rooms, though she couldn't shake all of the tension left over from her meeting with Pike. Her House—her life and freedom—was under threat. Amongst other things.

She shucked off her coat and draped it over her chair, too exhausted to hang it up. She commed down to the Floor and left Keenser in charge. She didn't feel like putting on her Madame face tonight. Tonight, she just wanted to be Nyota without any responsibilities plaguing her.

"What are you doing here?" she called over her shoulder, working at the laces of her boots. Spock didn't answer, merely continued to set out her best tea set unperturbed. He moved around her quarters with easy familiarity. Nyota sighed and wiggled her toes in the air, grateful to be out of the constrictive footwear. The scent of light herbal tea reached her. "Spock. Why are you here?"

"Am I not free to do as I wish with my own time?" he asked evenly, mixing sweetener into the cup that was probably for her.

"I own all of your time," Uhura said harshly. She carelessly tossed her boots into a corner. Ignoring Spock, she settled into the plush, worn chair Pike had gifted her with when she bought the House out from under him. "Refuge," he'd told her with a sad smile, refusing to elaborate. Nyota understood what he meant now. There were times—few and far between—when she wished she didn't.

Spock watched her for a moment before crossing over and kneeling before her, a lean dark line. Nyota looked down at him mutely. He unsettled her in ways she'd long forgotten. When he reached for her feet and pulled them onto his lap, Nyota let him.

"Then I am well served by spending it with you," Spock told her, dark eyes boring into her. She watched his pale fingers navigate the knots with ease. She let out a defeated sigh and settled back to watch him work. Spock was deliberate and methodical, almost relentlessly so. He treated every knot of tension as an affront.

Nyota allowed herself to look at him beyond the guise of employee and lucrative commodity. Spock was freshly showered, though she could see traces of kohl around his eyes and the glint of glitter on his cheeks. This wasn't a whore trying to get in good with management; she knew what that looked like. Had _been_ that whore. This was...something else.

"You are distressed," Spock said, as if continuing a conversation. "This was not my intention."

"There are easier ways to make me happy," Nyota said, to the point. _Time is money, money is time..._ Pike's voice echoed in her head. "Increasing your weekly grosses, for instance."

"I am Vulcan," Spock said, the non-sequitur throwing Nyota for a moment. She kept her peace, letting Spock come to his conclusion in his own time. "As a member of an endangered and rapidly dwindling species, it would be logical for me to endear myself to whatever existing hierarchy I find myself operating under. To curry favor to ensure my survival and continued well being. Agreed?"

Uhura snorted; she'd never heard it put quite so eloquently. "Agreed."

"I am, consistently, your top earner. I have a higher tolerance for pain, more stamina, and need less rest time than any of your other employees." A vicious, angry part of Nyota wanted to remind him she ran a _whorehouse._ Her "employees" earned their keep with their bodies. "My only competition comes from the combined efforts of Kirk and Gaila, who individually pose no professional threat to my standing. Ergo I believe my position is secure without any extra action on my part, is it not?" Nyota twitched, trying to figure out where this was going. All the conclusions she came to ended up nowhere good, that was for sure.

"Yeah, and?"

"And perhaps, in this instance, your cynicism is unwarranted." Nyota pulled her foot from Spock's grasp and sat up; she towered over him given their positions.

"I used to be a whore," Nyota told him, eyes hard and proud. "I swore I wouldn't be for long. So I played this game. I made my deal with the devil, did what I had to do so that I could be free. I sold myself to more than my clients to get out of the barracks. I lied, cheated, stole and killed to be first on the boards. I'm a cold, heartless bitch. Haven't you heard the good Doctor?"

"You are not the person Doctor McCoy thinks you are. If you were, he would not be here at all."

"Kirk and Gaila bring in more than enough between their solo ventures and their joint shows to merit his presence," Nyota shot back.

"Having seen their totals and calculated the man-hours you spend correcting their behavior, the distraction they often provide others, and the reparations you've had to make clients on their behalf, I must wonder if we are using disparate criteria," Spock said, and Nyota swore she detected a slight sarcasm in his tone. He was right; Kirk and Gaila liked to wreak havoc with her carefully run business. They threw in things for free if they 'liked' the client, and for the ones they didn't they could get damn mouthy. Sometimes fucked each other off the clock which wasn't expressly forbidden but pretty damn inconvenient for Uhura's peace of mind. And then Kirk went and found himself that Doctor and Uhura had only _thought_ she'd had sleepless nights when he was fucking Gaila.

When Spock rose to kiss her, Nyota let him.

***

Kirk stared out over the alleyway behind the House and took a deep drag off his cigarette. Real tobacco, too. Technically illegal under Imperial law, but some things from Earth were just too popular. And tobacco grew like a weed on many planets.

He shifted uncomfortably, the fabric of his shirt grating against tender skin, reminders of Komack. He repressed the instinctive shudder; that fucker didn't deserve a reaction. Didn't deserve to be remembered or to linger on his skin. Kirk let the pleasant burn of the smoke replace the tightness in his back.

"Haven't seen you for a while," Kirk said, feeling the rush of nicotine. He didn't object as steady fingers stole a cig out of his pack, just stared into the grimy shadows of the alley.

"Yeah, well." Leonard leaned against the wall, twirling his stolen contraband between his fingers, gaze steady on Jim. “Been busy.” Kirk tossed his butt to the ground and fished fresh one out of his nearly empty pack. 

“How's the kid?” He didn't have to look at Leonard to know the man flinched. Kirk scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed, feeling like a complete shit.

“They're on New Delta,” Leonard said, finally lighting up and taking a deep drag. "Human-friendly." 

"As much as anything is," Kirk said, a touch bitterly. His face hurt and his back was fucked. And Komack would be back, that much Kirk was certain. He always came back.

Leonard leaned into him, bumping shoulders. After a brief moment Kirk reciprocated, but didn't pull away, settling his weight against Leonard.

"What do you think about Shangri-la?" Leonard asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

"No such thing," Kirk said immediately.

"How do you know?" Kirk broke away and started pacing.

"Oh please, a secret planet that no one knows about that's, supposedly, the new seat of the Federation? Hope springs eternal."

"The Empire believes in it."

"You know what I think?" 

"Rarely."

"I think the _Empire_ made it up. Made the whole planet up so that people could have empty, meaningless hope and the ones that are actually stupid enough to go look for it get found and slaughtered. No. They get found and slaved away, forced to do whatever they hate most because that's the way the world works." Kirk threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. He looked over at Leonard, eyes empty and hopeless.

They moved at the same time, crashing into each other, mouths demanding. Leonard laughed as Jim pushed him against the wall, lean hips pressing up.

_“Bones,”_ he whispered, ragged and breathless.

“Jim.” Leonard snuck a hand down Jim's loose pants because he could and this time Jim laughed; Leonard could feel Jim's lips curl up against his own.

Leonard lost himself in the feel of Jim—always Jim with him, Kirk was someone who smiled coyly at strangers and fluttered his lashes. He didn't get this enough, could never get enough, had accepted he was well and truly fucked ages ago.

Someone banged on the door, warning them their time was up, and they reluctantly pulled back.

“Fuckers,” Jim said without rancor. Leonard laughed and reluctantly put his hand back on socially acceptable places. Leonard ran a hand through Jim's ridiculous hair. “Gotta go to work,” Jim mumbled.

“I...I've got to disappear for a while,” Leonard said. Jim pulled back and looked at him, eyes hooded. “For a while.” Jim hunched his shoulders, suddenly cold, and turned away.

“Jim—” He spun and grabbed Leonard, jerked him into a rough, desperate kiss that was nothing like the others. 

“I'll be back,” Leonard said helplessly, when they broke apart. Jim buried his face in Leonard's collar and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Uhura pressed her thumbs into her eyes trying to ease the tension headache setting in. She'd spent her entire day locked in her office making calls and fishing for information without actually fishing for information. The end result was she never wanted to make another vidcall again.

"Miz Uhura?" a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Keenser. Come in." The short, odd-looking alien trundled in making strange chirping noises. He'd been passed on to her by Pike and...well, she wasn't sure what he did _exactly_ , but things just kind of got done when he was around.

He climbed onto a chair, stubby legs swinging, and cocked his head at her.

"Unsettled," he said in his rasp. She shrugged noncommittally. Keenser kept his own council outside of the office, but he felt no reservation in sharing them inside her doors however concise they might be.

"Stressful week," Uhura brushed his concern aside. Keenser made a deep, rumbling noise that signaled his disbelief and discontent, but he didn't press any further.

"Meeting," he grunted shortly, tossing a pad onto her desk. "Ten minutes." He slid off the chair and headed out of the office. Uhura sighed and started scrolling through the weekly and monthly grosses, the various schedules and health reports. This was, by far, her least favorite part of the job

\---

"Lesh, you were short. Talk to Keenser after the meeting. Kirk, Gaila—" jeers and groans broke out immediately upon hearing their names; she'd been reprimanding them since she bought the House and he routinely corrupted Gaila's work ethic. People started making bets on what they did this time around. Uhura let them have their fun for a minute before bringing the meeting back to order. "Yeah yeah, bet on your own time or I'm taking it all! You two: you get one break every two hours, not a break whenever you want. And no freebies, you know the menu. Do it again and I'll dock the entire House." Sulu threw chips in Kirk's direction. Gaila snatched one of them out of the air and chewed happily.

"This week's top earner is Mr. Spock," Uhura announced. A lot of unenthusiastic applause and unsurprised mutterings rose up from her crew; each week's top earner gained a free day the next month and no one'd beaten Spock since he'd arrived. Spock merely arched an eyebrow, supremely unconcerned. He'd cost Uhura an arm and a leg, almost wiping out the House's liquid cash account, but he'd been worth every penny—and made back what it cost her to buy him within two months.

"Kirk, Da'an, and Fedra are on House duty tomorrow. Kirk, you do anything to injure your back and I will take it out of your hide," Uhura warned. Kirk smirked at her, the infuriating one where the tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth.

"Wouldn't that be a little counterproductive, _Madame?_ " Kirk asked. He wiggled his eyebrows tauntingly and Uhura had to take a deep breath to keep from killing him. Kirk never passed up the chance to undermine her authority or say something stupid. Boy was almost more trouble than he was worth—almost. God help him if he ever stopped bringing in the cash.

"Host duty, Mister Kirk. You can be first chair." Kirk glared at her and started to argue, but Gaila elbowed him in the stomach and he shut up. Good girl. "Sulu. Make sure your chick knows what he's doing." Sulu nodded and Pavel blinked owlishly at her, sinking back into the couch. Uhura stifled a sigh. The boy would have to buck up or ship out, she didn't have time for freeloaders. She waved her whores away and they all wandered off to prepare for the evening rush.

***

“Master Komack?” The slave's demure voice interrupted Komack's entertainment, another slave hung from the ceiling, covered in marks. Komack flicked his wrist, the tip of his whip flicking along his ribs. The slave screamed around his gag, body trying to get away from the sting. One of the most pleasing sounds in the 'verse.

“I was not to be interrupted,” he said softly, letting his plasma whip uncurl by his side, the sound unmistakable. The slave tensed but didn't move from her position.

“It is the Imperial Palace.” That was...unexpected. He'd contacted an acquaintance in the Imperial City to facilitate his plans but no one close to the Palace. Komack laid one lash on the slave's back for interrupting him, enjoying the sensuous curve that appeared on her back.

He took a moment to compose himself and accepted the vidcall. The face which appeared on screen was the last he expected to see.

“Emperor.” Komack hastily bowed, his mind spinning. “I had no idea—”

“Be silent,” the Emperor snapped and Komack cowered. He'd never imagined a one-on-one with Emperor Nero, never wanted to enter that particular sphere of influence. The Emperor was far too temperamental and those in his employ rarely lived long. “Ayel!”

“Ohran Komack.” Komack glanced up. The Emperor looked impatient and largely ignored the proceedings, his attention focused on his second. Ayel, the Emperor's closest adviser and top Enforcer.

“My Lord.”

“You have knowledge of half-breed called Spock,” Ayel said, sneering. Komack hid his anger under a veneer of subservience, his mind processing their question and figuring out how he could use it to his advantage.

“Yes, my Lord.” The Emperor leaned forward and Komack's attention was drawn to him.

“I want him.”

***

Kirk eyed the clients that ducked through the door. He grinned at a few of the regulars who waved back and headed straight for their chosen whores.

"You get demoted, pretty?" Kirk grinned and leaned back against his pillar, ignoring the sharp pain in his back. He smirked at Elt'i, a pretty lavender humanoid whose race had no gender; as such, gendered species were considered highly exotic and Elt'i was a fetishist's fetishist.

"Time for bad behavior," Kirk said with a smirk. He wiggled his eyebrows and Elt'i huffed in his species' expression of mirth.

"So we should find privacy..." Elt'i ran his short fingers over Kirk's arm.

"Alas," Kirk said with dramatic despair, "I did the crime, gotta do the time. Maybe next time?" Elt'i pouted but nodded agreeably. "But you know, I think your skin would look absolutely beautiful against green. Have you met Gaila?"

\---

Spock haunted the shadows of the balcony that overlooked the Floor observing the transactions taking place there. He never picked up clients; his services were booked weeks in advance, his time carefully parceled out and managed for maximum monetary gain. Still, the interactions on Floor fascinated him, the subtle negotiations that happened without words. He watched Kirk hand a client off to Gaila with a gallant bow and a jaunty wave. Kirk could reject clients and leave them happier than when they'd approached him. It was...incongruous with much of what Spock knew.

"Careful, your face might stick that way." Spock's frown turned into a small smile. He tracked the flow of the House's employees in the back of his mind, noting the clients claimed, bodies rented, the constant shift of people, even as his attention turned towards his Mistress. Uhura had called it a dance once, relaxed and satiated after a few hours of Spock's best efforts.

"That would be most unfortunate," he answered. "For the House." She smiled, tightly, which was more emotion than she typically gave away.

"Naturally," she said with a touch of sarcasm. They both watched the dance on the Floor. One of their most...intense clients zeroed in on Chekov and Uhura tensed. Chekov wasn't ready for Kirill yet and she couldn't afford to have him out of commission. A slight hitch in the dance and it picked up a new rhythm. Sulu stepped in and distracted Kirill even as Fedra bustled Chekov towards one of their most vanilla regulars. Uhura relaxed her grip on the railing as Sulu disappeared in the back with Kirill and another whore.

"You have taught them well," Spock murmured. Uhura shrugged. She didn't need to be complemented for running a tight, orderly House. She did what was necessary.

"You have a client coming," she reminded Spock.

"I will be prepared." They stood there for a moment in their silence and Spock noted several customers he'd never seen before enter, one after the other. They took in every part of the House...save for each other. Spock stilled his mind in order to digest the available information. Over the last two weeks they'd had an upsurge in new clients, one-off's who came alone, took an unusually long time picking out a whore and left soon after.

"We have had an influx of new customers recently," Spock offered casually. A small jerk was the only indication Uhura gave that the information disturbed her. Spock studied her, taking in the way the skin around her eyes was pinched, her lips pressed together in a thin line, and the clench of her jaw. Her gaze jumped from client to client, lingering on the ones she didn't recognize.

"What do you mean?" she asked guardedly. Almost...protectively.

"We average between five and seven new clients per day. The majority are typically escorted here by regulars or repeats—business partners, tourist groups, or friends they are visiting. Over the past two standard weeks I have observed an upsurge in the number of independent clients."

"How large an upsurge?" Uhura asked, throat tight.

"112-point-43 per-cent," Spock answered promptly.

"Anything else you've...observed?" Uhura asked, her mind racing.

"They all spent a good deal of time on the Floor observing the staff before they made their selection. And they all seem intent on not acknowledging one another."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Uhura said coolly. "Please make sure Ser Wial is well taken care of when he gets here." Spock bowed to her, but Uhura's attention was miles away.

\---

Kirk relaxed when he finally felt Uhura leave. It set him on edge knowing she was watching. Evaluating. Beady little no-first-name-eyes waiting for him to fuck up. Okay, not _beady_. More like dark and smokin' hot, especially when she was all mad and out for blood 'cause the rest of the time she was a stone cold bitch.

"Jimmy." Kirk stiffened. He hated that voice. He needed time to prepare himself, to make himself _not_ react to that voice. Kirk slowly turned around and found his most hated client seated in the shadows, flinty eyes following him.

"Komack," he greeted neutrally. Komack never showed up without a prior reservation. He liked Kirk to anticipate his arrival, to know exactly when he'd sign away his freedom for a few credits. Kirk wondered if Uhura would uphold her no strenuous activity edict in the face of Komack's money and influence. 

"I'd love to be of service," Kirk sad insincerely, pasting a cocky grin on his face, "but Mom's grounded me for a while. No fun for me!" He edged away but Komack grabbed his wrist, thin fingers biting into the bone.

"That's alright," Komack said with an oily smile, "I'm sure there's something you can do for me." He spread his legs and leaned back in his chair, bulge in his pants obvious. Komack reached into his pocket and slapped a handful of credits on the table. "I think that's your going rate these days, plus a little extra. I'm feeling a little neglected, pet. Why don't you take care of that."

Kirk stared at the money. House rules said he couldn't refuse. Fuck the House. Kirk flicked the credits, sending them spinning back towards Komack, spilling off the table into his lap and onto the floor.

"Oops. I don't think you have enough credits to afford me," Kirk said with a dead smile.

He hadn't even seen Komack's security. A hand landed heavy on Kirk's back and he bit back a cry of pain. He was spun around and a quick jab to the back of his knees had him collapsed in front of Komack, a knee pressed into the small of his back. It hurt and Kirk could feel something in his back give way. Komack grabbed a fistful of Kirk's hair and twisted sharply.

"So pretty, little human boy," Komack hissed, his perfect standard accent slipping. He pressed Kirk's face into his crotch. "Imagine your life as my own private whore." Kirk tried his best to do the exact opposite. Not much in this life got to him, but the thought of Komack owning him was enough to make his blood run cold.

Komack got a good grip on Kirk's hair and pulled him back, just enough to get at the fly of his pants. Kirk snarled and gnashed hit teeth, the clicking sound as the upper teeth hit the lower loud and sharp. Komack's expression morphed into one of abject fury and he backhanded Kirk across the face, split the whore's lip. Kirk grinned wolfishly up at him, refusing to be cowed.

"Your dick comes anywhere near me and I'll bite it off," he said cheerfully, and spit blood at Komack's feet. Sound suddenly filtered in and Kirk knew the Madame was coming, House security hot on her heels. Komack knew too, because he bent down, his dry lips brushing over the shell of Kirk's ears.

"This is the most freedom you will ever know." Kirk froze, his mind stuttering over the words and their implication. Uhura would never sell him to the likes of Komack. She was a tough bitch, but she wasn't cruel. She rarely sold any of her people, and when she did the buyer was carefully vetted. She might give Komack appointments and take his money—mostly because he was so well connected within the Empire—but she wouldn't sell her people to him. What happened after they were out of her care was one thing, but Uhura herself wouldn't be party to it.

Komack pushed Kirk back just as Uhura's steel-toned voice reached them.

"Lord Komack. I wasn't aware you'd made an appointment today."

"Madame Uhura, a pleasure as always," Komack said, rising. He smirked down at Kirk, still on his knees. "This was something of a...splurge. A last hurrah, if you will."

"Oh?" Uhura arched an eyebrow and smiled thinly at Komack. "Are you going somewhere?"

"In a manner of speaking," Komack said coyly, and Uhura stiffened. "But your whores could use some discipline. This one is particularly mouthy. I only like it when I pay for it."

"He'll be properly reprimanded, Mr. Komack. Perhaps I can offer you a—"

"That won't be necessary." Komack left the credits scattered on the table where they were, his entourage flanking him. "I find I have pressing business elsewhere." His eyes lingered on Kirk, hard and dangerous. "I'll be seeing you soon."

***

Kirk sat morosely in his room, picking at the blanket, an ice pack strapped to his back. Instead of the epic shit storm he'd anticipated from Uhura, she'd just given him an indecipherable and completely vague look and left without another word. She was acting odd, but he couldn't talk to anyone about it—you didn't talk about your Madame, not even to Gaila who would never betray him. You never knew who was listening. The only person he could talk to about her was—unease settled in his chest and he forced himself not to think of Bones, gone for far too long now.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Pavel, who hadn't learned not to give his first name to his clients, stood in the door way.

“Hey. What's up?” The boy smiled hesitantly but didn't step inside.

“You have a message.” Kirk rolled his eyes and debated the merits of a few extra credits from quickie phone sex versus moping in his room. “Is from your doktor.” 

Gaila and Sulu were lounging by the phone system, obviously waiting for him. The only person in the House that had a personal console or line was Uhura; the rest of them shared and it was best to assume everyone knew what was in a message before you did.

“Well?” Gaila said archly. “Sulu made me wait for you. Open it!”

They could barely make out Bones' face. He hadn't shaved in weeks and he had dark bags under his eyes. Kirk's fingers twitched with the desire to reach out. Gaila caught his hand and he gripped her tight.

“Jim.” Bones' voice sounded like someone rubbed sandpaper over his windpipe. “Kid, jesus. I—”

A loud crash sounded outside and Bones spun around. The sound died down into suffocating silence and Bones turned back to the camera. He didn't look scared, Kirk told himself. Just stressed. Really stressed.

“Jim, you gotta listen, okay? There's something going on, and you—you gotta be ready. I don't know what it is but I'm working on it and I'll be back when I can but. Be ready.” Someone called out Bones' name and the vid ended, Bones' haggard expression winking out into nothing.

“Kirk.” He blinked and Gaila was _right there_ in his face looking green and concerned. Sulu and Pavel were huddled together watching him.

“We have to make sure everyone's ready,” Kirk said, his voice coming out flat but steady. “Make sure _everyone_ knows. And if shit goes down, we stick together.”

***

Uhura made her way through alleys she knew like the back of her hand, the world behind the beautiful buildings and ornate shops of the planet's rich trading center. She slipped through an unimpressive wood door and into the back room of the Hotel Emperor.

“Chris.” She sat at the table, her cloak pulled high to cover her face. “What's going on?”

“I don't know.” For the first time she could remember Pike wasn't completely in control. Even in his greatest anger Pike had been rigidly composed. “Half of my informants have gone dark.” Frustration and fear gave his voice a grating, strained edge.

“Things have been off at the House. Too many new clients, not enough of the old. Whispers.” They looked at each other over the table, silence thick between them.

“There's always the box,” Pike said. Uhura looked away. The box, one of the many things she'd inherited from Pike when she took over. One of the things they'd never talked about. Pike covered her hand and Uhura looked up at him, startled. “There's always _been_ a box.”

***

Two weeks later Nyota stared blankly at the reports spread in front of her, written on sheets of easily-disposable flimsy.

"You're certain—"

"Whoa, whoa. I gives you facts. S'all. I's not a speculatin'. Thas facts, you do what you do. Not on me." The PI's skin changed from dark blue to a purple flush in rapid succession—an Earii that had skin that could blend in with its surrounding and protruding eyes that allowed it to see 180 degrees. A species well suited to investigation.

"Understood," Uhura said soothingly. The Earii put a high price on what was said, libel and slander the height of offense. "Whatever conclusions I draw from your information will be my own. No more." The PI nodded, satisfied. It finished its refreshment and scooped up the vouchers Uhura had left on the desk as a bonus for a job well done.

"Advice," it said evenly, pausing by the door to button its long jacket, "thas other."

"Your advice would be nothing short of valued," Uhura said diplomatically. One of its eyes rotated around its head so Uhura could see herself reflected in the surface.

"Run."


	3. Chapter 3

Leonard hurried through the darkened streets, shoulders hunched and acutely aware of the money hidden in his boot. Eyes followed him, assessing, searching for hidden weapons or a chink in his armor. To call this the bad side of town was laughable; here it was just a matter of time before you got jumped.

“Human.” A bulky alien stepped in Leonard's way. Shit.

“You got business here, hu-man?” This voice came from behind him. Other bodies slunk out of the shadows, some with the guy in front, others just hoping for something to scavenge.

“He does.” Leonard let out a sigh of thanks. The vultures scattered when they caught sight of Maquis tattoos. The hulk glanced from Leonard to the Maquis soldiers. With a grunt he melted back into the shadows. Leonard had moments to feel relief before he was grabbed and hauled down the alley. He stumbled after the Maquis, tripping over his feet to keep up. They were somewhere underneath the city, deep in its piping, in a nondescript room that would probably never be used again when his escort shoved him in a chair.

“You're lucky you're a good doctor,” Kota growled. He was human-born but like many living on the fringe had gotten himself a few upgrades—alien gene therapy, enhancement surgeries...many of which Leonard had performed, for both Kota and the Maquis higher-ups. He might not approve of the Maquis' methods, but he couldn't dislike a group that gave the Empire hell, even if they were the reason he'd ended up on this godforsaken rock. “What do you want, McCoy?”

“I've been hearing things,” Leonard said. “I need to know if they're real.” Kota sat back, assessing. Leonard gave it right back, scowling and folding his left hand into a complicated sign. Kota stared at it for a moment, tense, before leaning back in his chair.

“You're talking about that House you're so attached to.” Leonard nodded curtly, palms suddenly sweaty. It was stupid to think they hadn't been keeping tabs on him. He knew enough about their organization to cause them serious trouble if he got caught. And more than a few of them owed him personal favors. Like Kota. “That why you've been working all these odd jobs? Fell off the grid pretty well.”

“Pays good money,” Leonard said defensively. He ignored the guilt churning in his gut. “A lot of good money.”

“Good money you wouldn't touch a couple months ago,” Kota noted. “You're dealing in some serious shit. Getting noticed. People know your name.” Leonard shrugged and remained quiet. He knew the risks of doing what he did. One of the reasons he hadn't done it before. He could have his kid and ex living a real good life if he was willing to step over a certain line. A line he'd thrown himself over four weeks ago when the rumors had first started because he needed cash and information and, he was becoming more sure, a way to get himself and at least one other person off this rock.

“Komack's takin' that place down. And the Empire's behind him.” Leonard's head snapped up. 

“What?” It made no sense. Why would the Empire would care about one little whore house in the middle of nowhere?

“Word is Nero's given his blessing. He's sending Ayel. That place will burn and not even its richest benefactors will be able to help.” Kota leaned forward, his non-human eyes intent. “You know why he's so interested?” Leonard shook his head, trying to piece together anything that made sense.

“Are you sure?” he asked. This was far worse than he'd ever imagined, and his predictions of doom were generally as bad as you could get. Kota pursed his lips, then sighed. He raised his right hand, folded into a mirror of Leonard's.

“Get out. You wouldn't want to be collateral damage.”

Shit. _Shit._ The Empire wasn't the only faction going after the house—the Maquis would stop at nothing to get to kill one of the Emperor's closest advisers.

“I'm calling in a favor,” Leonard said. The Maquis owed him a lot, and he wasn't above blackmailing them for his continued silence. And Kota, in his own words, could never repay the debt he owed Leonard. Kota's lips quirked and Leonard could almost remember the human he had been.

“Oh yeah? Which one?” 

“All of them.”

***

Uhura stared out at the empty floor, anxiety building in her. Their business had steadily declined over the past few days. The streets were empty, people hurrying to their destination as fast as possible, staying in their houses when possible. The entire city was preparing for something, and Uhura had a very strong feeling her House would be ground zero.

“There's an Imperial flyer hovering over the city!” Fedra was only inside long enough to make the announcement and then he was sprinting out the door, the rest of the staff right behind him. Uhura didn't follow, instead concentrating on staying upright.

“Nyota.” A soft brush against her hands jerked her out of her stupor. Spock stood beside her, face stoic but she could sense the concern from him. “I—”

“JIM!” Leonard burst through the door looking haggard and worn; he hadn't shaved in weeks and his hair was in disarray. “JIM!” He rushed off the floor and through the back, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Uhura moved to intercept him, Spock at her heels.

“Doctor. Doctor, you can't—” Leonard turned on her, snarling, and shoved her against the wall. Uhura was too shocked to react; the doctor had made his disdain of her well known but had never physically threatened her.

“You're in deep shit here, sister, so I wouldn't be telling anyone what they—” Leonard's words choked off as Spock's hand wrapped around his windpipe.

“You will unhand Madame Uhura and you will not touch her again,” Spock said steadily. Leonard complied, Holding his hands up as non-threatening as possible.

“Spock,” Uhura said sharply, “let him go.” Spock dropped Leonard unceremoniously to his knees; Uhura pushed her annoyance at Spock's assistance aside. This was not the time. “Explain yourself.”

“Explain—you want to tell me what you did to get the Emperor's goddamned _enforcer_ to come to this rock? 'Cause that's who showed up this morning and word on the street is he's coming for someone in this House and he don't care much who dies in his wake. So I don't care how much of a heartless bitch you are, I'm taking Kirk and whoever wants to go with me and getting the hell out because this place is not going to exist in the morning.” Leonard turned, heading towards the living quarters.

“Doctor, wait.” Leonard turned, scowling. “I have—” Uhura almost tripped over Keenser, standing behind her with a plain metal box no one was supposed to know about. “Summon everyone.” Keenser nodded and disappeared.

“One day,” Uhura said to Leonard, the genetic lock opening with her hand print, “we are going to talk about the misconceptions you have about me.”

“What, you plan on surviving today?” Leonard snarked. Uhura found the two documents she needed, certificates printed on durable flexipaper. She pushed two of them into Leonard's chest and she brushed by.

“I plan on surviving for a very long time, Doctor McCoy.” 

“Well fuck me twice on Sunday,” he marveled, staring down at Kirk and Gaila's ownership papers.

\---

The whores assembled quickly, well-trained to respond to the sound of the assembly bell. Uhura stood before her House for what would be the last time; she couldn't really say the thought pained her much. She set the box on the stool, acutely aware of Spock shadowing her every move, positioning himself as her right-hand man. It gave her a measure of comfort, which she found irritating and ridiculous, but there it was.

“You've heard that a representative from the Empire is here,” she said, the chatter dying down as she spoke. Even Kirk and Gaila were silent at this. “They're here for us.” She could feel the shock travel through her people but they kept silent, for the most part.

Several of the walls slid away revealing shallow rooms with racks upon racks of guns and ammunition.

“Mother of god,” Leonard swore. Uhura grabbed a plasma rifle and primed it. She handled it with assurance and no one doubted she knew how to use it.

“I'm not leaving you unarmed. Grab a weapon and grab your Papers from Mr. Spock and then get the hell out of here. None of you are my responsibility anymore.” Uhura stepped down, regal as a princess. A few heartbeats and then everyone was scrambling. The smart ones went for the weapons first.

Uhura watched silently as her people—former people—left the House as fast as they could, the sunlight coming through the open door making the inside of the House look garish and tawdry. She glanced at the handful of people still on the Floor; many of them had known life outside of a whorehouse and had nowhere to go, and they were all staring at Kirk, hungry for leadership.

“Pick a weapon you know how to use!” Uhura watched Kirk give a terrified young Ferengi a crash course on how to fire a plasma weapon. He moved easily through the ranks, making sure everyone was prepared. Uhura counted thirteen people, including Chekov and Sulu.

“I would not have thought Kirk a natural leader.” Spock had a large plasma canon strapped across his chest, two phaser rifles over his shoulders and a couple of pistols tucked into his waistband. “He caused a great deal of chaos within the House.”

“Maybe whoring just didn't challenge him,” Uhura said dryly. Spock appeared to be seriously considering what she said. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him who he was going with when weapons fire sounded from the street. People screamed and angry shouts filtered through the door. A low boom rolled through the House and alarms started blaring.

“MOVE!” Kirk bellowed and started herding people down the hall, towards the hidden exit to the personal quarters. Sulu stepped in to cover the rear; Leonard and Pavel lead the charge down the hall while Gaila kept everyone in line. The weapons fire came closer. Uhura stepped up beside Kirk, her plasma rifle whining as it charged. He snuck a glance at her, a smirk appearing on his face. She relaxed a little when Spock stepped up beside her. 

Soldiers dressed in Imperial garb poured into the house, weapons drawn. Uhura growled when she saw Komack's people filing in behind them.

“Come on,” Kirk hissed at her, slipping into the darkness at the back of the House, keeping to the shadows. She shared a glance with Spock, who nodded and inched back with her. The soldiers were overturning couches and knocking down anything that moved.

“It's deserted,” one of the soldiers said. Uhura froze in anger at the voice that answered.

“You said he would be here,” said a cold, empty voice. Uhura knew beyond a doubt that this was Ayel, the Emperor's Enforcer.

“No, they're all hiding in the back. This place is bigger than it looks.” She could practically see Komack's swagger and her fingers tightened around her gun. Only Spock's hand on her shoulder kept her moving down the hall.

They quickly caught up with the tail end of the group, huddled around the back entrance.

“Soldiers back there?” Kirk asked, crouching down beside Leonard. Leonard handed him the mirror he'd been using to get a look at the outside.

“Not that I can see, but that don't amount to a hill of beans,” Leonard said.

“If they've got a sniper out there, we'll be sitting ducks,” Sulu said.

“Yeah, well, we're sitting ducks in here too,” Leonard pointed out. Kirk leaned out a little further, trying to get a glimpse of the roofline when the mirror was shot out of his hand.

“Son of a bitch!” Kirk snapped his hand back, bleeding from where the shards of glass had dug into it. Two more warning shots burned the ground in front of the door.

“That's cover fire,” Sulu said. “Someone's coming.” Dark forms flitted from shadow to shadow. Sulu raised his gun, tracking one of the bigger blobs. He had a bead on it, a humanoid alien with a lot of bulk. Center mass should at least slow it down if not outright kill it.

“Wait!” Leonard hissed, pushing Sulu's gun away. The shadows drifted closer and Leonard stuck his head out of the door.

“Bones!” Kirk hissed, and hands tried to pull him back.

“Kota!” Leonard yelled. The expected shot never came. The silence in the alley was deafening. “Kota, you rat bastard!”

“McCoy.”

“Jesus.” Leonard pushed open the door, careful to keep his gun pointed to the ground, one hand up. A hulking figure stepped out of the darkness, gun aimed at Leonard's chest. Kirk and Sulu immediately took a bead on him.

“You're supposed to be gone.”

“Got a little tied up. You mind? There are Imperial soldiers breathin' down our necks.” Kota stared at him flatly, not a flicker of any emotion on his face.

“Ayel's in there,” Uhura said. She stepped out into the street and could feel dozens of eyes on her. She held her head up and met this Kota's gaze evenly. “You're Maquis. That's who you're here for, right? Well, he's in my House, I saw him myself.”

“Get out of here,” Kota said. “Get to the docks, McCoy, and don't look back. And don't stop for anyone. We don't owe you anything anymore.” Leonard nodded.

They ran through the streets, following Sulu's lead. He'd been a street rat when Uhura had picked him up, scamming, whoring and hustling for money. One of the best pickpockets she'd seen. They were only a few blocks away when an explosion sounded behind them. They could see flames rising over the buildings, smoke pouring into the twilight sky, right where the House used to stand.

“Keep movin!” Kirk barked, and her feet obeyed.

It took them ten minutes to get through the deserted streets to the spacedock. There was one guard at the entrance but appearances could be deceiving. Leonard sauntered up to him and put his gun on the counter.

“You must be McCoy,” the guy said.

“Must be,” Leonard returned glibly. The guy smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. He flicked a chip onto the counter.

“Slip seven. It's the only ship that still works.” Leonard palmed the chip and nodded. The gates to the dock slid open silently. “And McCoy? Don't stop for nothin'.”

\---

Kirk stared at the skiff like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

“She is, Bones,” Kirk said in wonder. He touched the hull reverently, eyes wide. “She's the hottest chick I've ever seen.” Leonard snorted and prodded Jim in the back.

“Can you see her from the inside? We're on a schedule here.” Kirk stroked the hull one last time and stumbled up the plank and into the bowels of the ship, the rest of their crew finding rooms to settle in.

“So who knows how to fly this deathtrap?” Leonard wondered aloud. The engines started warming up moments later and Pavel's voice came over the speakers.

“Vill be ready to fly in sewenty-eight seconds. Please sit.”

“Born on a mining ship,” Sulu said, presumably returning from the cockpit. “There's nothing in this universe Pavel can't fly.”

“Are we light?” Gaila asked. “We feel light.” Kirk gave her a dirty look and Leonard figured this was one of those times they were talking in code.

“We're not light. We're exactly the weight we should be.”

“Really?” Gaila asked, glaring at him. “Because I think two more would be just perfect.” She planted her hands on her hips and tossed her red hair. Jim shrugged. “The hero never leaves anyone behind.”

“What in tarnation are y'all talking about?” Leonard demanded.

“Uhura and Spock,” Sulu translated for him.

“What, you mean—where the hell are they?”

“Outside,” Gaila informed him happily, spinning in the chair she'd claimed. Jim scowled. Leonard swore and stalked over to the off ramp. Gaila paused long enough to look at Kirk, eyes glittering. “He really is a knight!”

\---

“Well?” Leonard said gruffly. The two idiots were arguing beside the gangplank, Spock with his hands folded behind his back and looking like a block of granite, Uhura apparently trying to convince him to get on the ship without her. Funny, she never struck him as the self-sacrificing type They both turned to him with identical stubborn expressions on their face. He glanced from Spock to Uhura and figured he should try with the one who felt actual emotion.

“You still got a lecture to give me, don't you? Something about proving you've got a heart instead of a block of ice in that chest of yours.” Uhura glanced at Spock. Spock arched an eyebrow and she was disturbed to realize she knew exactly what he was saying: he would stand by her no matter what. If she didn't get on the boat, he wasn't going either. She couldn't let him stay here and face certain death. She grudgingly stalked up the ramp.

“That's what I thought,” Leonard said smugly.

***

“You must sit down and leave me alone,” Pavel snapped at Kirk, his fingers dancing over the keypads.

“Sure,” Kirk said agreeably. “Just...what did you say the weapons capabilities on the skiff were?”

“Compared to Imperial ship? Nonexistent.”

“So we're going to explode in the atmosphere, great,” Leonard groused, edging his way onto the overcrowded bridge. “Disease and danger wrapped in a paper thin shell.” An explosion sounded from the city, which was rapidly going up in flames. Seemed the Maquis had started a full-out riot. The Flyer was firing on the city, taking out large sections at a time.

“Can we really out fly an Imperial ship?” Sulu asked.

“We could explode on ground,” Pavel offered, and Leonard couldn't tell if he was joking.

“Don't stop,” Uhura murmured.

“What was that?” Kirk asked, frustration getting the better of him.

“The Maquis leader, the guy at the gate—they both said don't stop. For anything.” She looked at them. “We go. And we don't stop for anything. Not even that ship.”

“You heard the woman,” Kirk said. “Pavel, get us out of here.”

“Aye aye, Keptin!” Pavel said with a smile, and lifted off. It didn't take long for the ship to target them, alarms blaring in warning.

“Evasive maneuvers,” Kirk ordered. Pavel and Sulu both shot him exasperated looks.

“And what constitutes an evasive maneuver?” Sulu asked sarcastically.

“Anything that doesn't get us killed,” Kirk answered. His console blinked. “Shit, they've got a lock on us. Bank! Bank!” The skiff shuddered as a photon blast skimmed one of the wings. Pavel banked and then put the skiff in a steep climb, the whole ship shaking and bucking in protest. The engines whined under the stress, struggling to climb higher and faster than they should.

“They're on our tail and launching fighters!” Sulu warned.

“That does not help,” Pavel snapped, his brow furrowed in concentration. Kirk watched mutely as the flyer gained on them, its powerful engines outmatching their little skiff.

“Closing in forty seconds,” Sulu said.

“Do you have to countdown to our impending doom?” Leonard muttered darkly.

“Thirty seconds,” Sulu shot back at Leonard, smiling meanly. Leonard rolled his eyes. “Twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four—” 

The Flyer shuddered and exploded outwards in a ball of fire.

“Chyort voz'mi!” Pavel breathed and tried coaxing even more power out of the engines. They had almost cleared atmo when the shock wave hit them, sending their ship tumbling into space and their crew tumbling ass-to-ankles.

***

When Kirk woke up his vision was blurry and his head hurt like a bitch. He reached up and his hand came back sticky and red.

“Don't poke at it, you moron!” And then Leonard was there, pressing a bandage to his head, scowling and whole, with really blue eyes.

“Got away?” Kirk mumbled.

“Yeah,” Leonard said, smiling. “We killed Ayel.”

“What?!” Kirk tried to sit up but Leonard just pushed him down again. He was smiling this time though.

“Seems the Maquis don't really give gifts. They attached a bomb to the Flyer's engines. Tripped the moment they geared up to break atmosphere. The moment they took off after us they were doomed.” Leonard plunked something down on Jim's chest, but Jim's eyes didn't want to focus on it.

“Wassit?” Kirk slurred, his eyes sliding shut.

“Your Papers,” Leonard said gruffly. Kirk's eyes snapped open and his hand tightened around the flexipaper. “You belong to yourself kid. Congrats.”

The first thing Jim did as a free man was drag Bones down into the dirtiest kiss he could manage.


End file.
